Once upon a time, in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self assured princess happened upon a frog, as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.

The frog hopped into the Princess’ lap and said: ‘Sweet Lady, I was once a handsome Prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young Prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in yon castle, where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so.’

That night, while enjoying a repast of lightly sautéed frog’s legs, the princess chuckled to herself and thought: ‘I don’t bloomin’ well think so!’

From ‘I Don’t Know How She Does It’
By Allison Pearson
Edited by Aquarius

Two long-time friends who loved playing soccer made a pact in their younger days. They agreed that whoever died first would try to contact the one left behind with information as to whether soccer was played in the world of spirit. Both adored the game so much that they looked forward to continue playing it after leaving the Earth plane.

When the first of them had passed on, the other one waited to see whether his friend on the other side of the veil that separates our two world would find a way of contacting him. Lo and behold! One day, he received a message that his friend had some good and some bad news for him. ‘The good news is,’ his friend said, ‘that we do play soccer here and the bad news is that tomorrow you will be our goal keeper.’

A woman was getting her hair styled for a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded: ‘Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. How are you getting there?’

‘We’re taking Continental,’ was the reply. ‘We got a great rate!’

‘Continental?’ exclaimed the hairdresser. ‘That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly and they’re always late. Where will you be staying in Rome?’

‘We’ll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome’s Tiber River called Teste.’

‘Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump.’

‘We’re going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope.’

‘That’s rich,’ laughed the hairdresser. ‘You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Good luck on this trip of yours. You’re going to need it.’

A month later, the woman came for another hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome . ‘It was wonderful,’ she explained, ‘not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they moved us into first class. The food and wine were wonderful and I had a handsome twenty-eight year old flight attendant who waited on me hand and foot. The hotel was great! They’d just finished a five million dollar remodelling job, and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner’s suite at no extra charge!’

‘Well,’ muttered the hairdresser, ‘that’s all well and good, but I bet you didn’t get to see the Pope.’

‘Actually, we were quite lucky, because on a tour through the Vatican a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and told me the Pope would like to meet some of the visitors. If I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, he walked in and shook my hand! As I knelt down, he just spoke a few words to me.’

In my present lifetime I’m a woman. In my next one I’d like to be a bear. Let me tell you why:

When you’re a bear, you hibernate during the winter months and do nothing but sleep for up to six months. I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate, you’re supposed to eat yourself stupid. I could deal with that, too.

When you’re a girl bear, you give birth to children, each one the size of a walnut, while you’re sleeping and upon waking up they have already grown into cute cuddly cubs. I could certainly deal with that.

Besides, if you’re a mother bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat those who bother your cubs, including their father, your mate. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that.

If you’re a bear, your mate expects you to wake up growling and that you have hairy legs and excess body fat.

It’s the year 2012 and the Olympic Games in London are in full swing. One fine day, three friends by the name of Smith, Brown and Jones are dying to get into the stadium, in spite of the fact that they have no money for tickets.

Refusing to be stuck for a solution, Smith picks up a manhole-cover, tucks it under his arm, walks to the gate and says: ‘Smith, United Kingdom, discus.’ The man at the checkpoint waves him in.

Brown picks up a clothes prop, slings it over his shoulder, marches to the gate and says: ‘Brown, United Kingdom, pole vaulting.’ He too walks in.

‘Ah,’ Jones thinks to himself. Looking around, he spots a roll of barbed wire. He picks it up, tucks it under his arm, walks up to the gate and says: ‘Jones, United Kingdom, fencing.’

A man walks into a psychiatrist’s office with the complaint: ‘Doctor, I think I’m going crazy. I keep imagining I am a zebra. Each time I look at myself in the mirror I see my entire body covered with black stripes.’

‘Calm down. You are not a zebra,’ the doctor reassures the man. Go home, take these pills and get a good night’s rest. I’m sure the black stripes will disappear.’

The man does as he is told, but the next day he is back. ‘Doctor,’ he says, ‘the black stripes have disappeared. I feel great! Now, have you anything for the white stripes?’

Five hairy bikers went into a bar where a lone small man was peacefully eating a pie and having a drink. They pestered the chap for a while and finally their leader put out a cigarette in the poor fellow’s nearly full glass. The man got up and walked out without saying a word. After convulsing themselves with laughter, the bikers ordered lagers and the leader grinned at the barman: ‘Not much of a fighter, that one, eh?’ ‘No,’ replied the barman. ‘Not much of a driver, either. He’s just backed a forty-tonner over your bikes.’

A CEO, Chief Executive Officer, is throwing a party and takes his executives on a tour of his opulent mansion, at the back of which is the largest swimming pool his visitors have ever seen. To their amazement, it is filled with hungry looking alligators.

The host says to his guests: ‘In my view, executives should be measured by the degree of their courage. That’s what once made me into a CEO. My challenge is if any one of you has enough courage to dive into the pool, swim through those alligators and make it to the other side, I will give them anything they desire – my job, my money, my house, anything!’

Everyone laughs at this outrageous offer and follows the CEO on the tour of his estate. Suddenly, a loud splash can be heard. Everyone turns round and sees the CFO, the Chief Financial Officer, in the pool. Swimming for his life, he dodges the alligators left and right and makes it to the edge of the pool. Just as he is pulling himself out of the water, one of the creatures snaps at his shoes.

The flabbergasted CEO approaches the CFO and says: ‘You are amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. You are brave beyond measure and you may now have anything I own. Tell me what I can do for you and it will be done.’

The CFO, panting for breath, looks up and says: ‘Just one thing, that’s all. Tell me who the hell pushed me into the pool.’

Leroy Anderson, 1908-1975, was an American composer of Swedish descent. He wrote short and light concert pieces, many of which were introduced by the Boston Pops Orchestra under the direction of Arthur Fiedler. As with all his other compositions, Leroy Anderson wrote ‘The Typewriter’ to be performed by an orchestra. The work was completed October 9, 1950.

This particular orchestration was presented to the public in a concert on June 12, 2011 by members of the National Orchestra and Chorus of Spain in Madrid. The soloist on the typewriter is Alfredo Anaya.

This is the funniest video that has come my way for quite a while.
If you have seen it before, it's so good that it's well worth another viewing.

Have you ever heard of AAADD
Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder?
Everybody over 50 is at risk
And this is how it manifests itself:

I decide to water my garden. As I turn on the hose, I catch a glimpse of my car and decide it’s in need of washing.

Walking towards the garage, I notice the mail I collected from the letterbox earlier on the table near the front door.

I decide to go through the mail before washing the car. I lay my car keys on the table, put the junk mail in the rubbish bin under the table and notice that it is full.

So, I put the bills back on the table and take out the rubbish first.

But then I think, since I’m going to be near the post-box when I take out the rubbish anyway, I may as well pay the bills first.

When I take my cheque book off the table, I notice that only one cheque is left. My extra cheques are in my desk in the study, so I go there and find a can of Coke I had been drinking earlier.

Searching for my new chequebook, I push the Coke aside so that I don’t accidentally knock it over. Because it feels warm, I take it to the fridge in the kitchen.

Heading towards the kitchen with my Coke, I notice a vase of flowers in need of topping up with water on the worktop.

So, I put the Coke down and, to my delight, find my reading glasses which I’ve been searching for all morning. Thinking to myself: ‘I better put them back on my desk,’ but then decide to first give my flowers some water.

Leaving the glasses on the worktop, I am about to fill a container with water when I spot the TV remote control. Someone left it on the kitchen table.

I realise that tonight when watching TV, I’ll be looking for it high and low and I shall never remember where I left it. So, I better put it back where it belongs, but first I’ll water the flowers.

Whilst topping up the flower vase quite a bit of water splashes onto the floor. I put the remote control back on the table, get some kitchen towel and wipe up the spill.

After that, I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do in the first place. At the end of the day I find that the car hasn’t been cleaned, the bills are still unpaid, a can of warm Coke is sitting on the kitchen worktop, the flowers still don’t have enough water and only one cheque is in my cheque book, I can’t find the remote control and the glasses and I cannot, for the life of me, remember what I did with the car keys.

Exhausted, I flop into a chair and I try to figure out why nothing got done today. This really baffles me because I know I have been very busy all day.

Don’t laugh – if this isn’t you – yet!
As my dear old dad used to say:
‘What’s blossoming in one is budding in another.’

Your time for the onset of AAADD may be closer than you think.

‘Growing older is mandatory,
growing up is optional and
laughing about ourselves is therapeutic.’

‘Okay,’ replied the lawyer. ‘I met your wife today and she told me that she has invested only $5,000 in two very nice pictures that she thinks will bring somewhere between $15 and $20 million. I believe she could be right.’

Saul’s enthusiastic response was: ‘I always knew my wife was a good business woman. You’ve just made my day, so let’s have the bad news. What is it?’

The lawyer replied: ‘Well, how can I put this? The pictures are of you and your secretary.’

We were born before TV, penicillin, polio and flu shots, frozen food, Zerox, plastic, contact lenses, videos, Frisbees, and the pill. We were there before radar, credit cards, split atoms, laser beams, and ball point pens, dishwashers, tumble driers, electric blankets, air conditioners, drip dry clothes, and – just think – before a man walked on the Moon.

We got married first and then lived together! How quaint can you get? We thought fast food was what you ate in Lent, a Big Mac was an over-sized raincoat, and crumpet we had for tea. We existed before house husbands, computer dating and dual careers. A meaningful relationship meant getting along with one’s cousins. Sheltered accommodation was where you waited for a bus. We were there before day care centres, group homes and disposable nappies had been thought of. We had never heard of FM radio, tape decks, electric typewriters, artificial hearts, word processors, yoghurt and men wearing earrings. For us time-sharing meant togetherness. A chip was a piece of wood or fried potato. To us, hardware was nuts and bolts and software was a word that had not yet been invented.

Before 1940, Made in Japan meant junk. Making out referred to how you did in your exams. Stud was something that fastened a collar to a shirt. Going all the way meant staying on a double-decker bus until you reached the depot. Pizzas, McDonalds and instant coffee were still unheard of. Cigarette smoking was fashionable, grass was mown, coke was kept in the coal-house, a joint was a piece of meat you had on Sundays, pot was something you cooked in. Crack was a small opening or, if you were Irish and having fun, it was spelt craic and meant just that, fun. Rock music was a grandmother’s lullaby. A snort was something a horse did and LSD meant Pounds, Shillings and Pence.

Considering how the world has changed and the adjustments we have had to make, you have to admit that those of us born before 1940 must be a hardy bunch! No wonder we are so confused and that there is a generation gap between us and the youngsters of today. Yet, with the Grace of God, we have survived. Hallelujah!

An immigrant doctor sets up a private clinic in the United States and posts an advertisement ‘Will cure anything for $ 500 or pay back twice.’

An American sees this and senses an opportunity to make a fortune. ‘I’ll get those 1000 dollars from him alright, and to think of the money I’ll make when I also get to sue that quack for fraud.’

Consequently he goes to the doctor and says: ‘Doctor, I seem to have lost all taste!’

‘Nurse, three drops from bottle #22 for this gentleman, please,’ the doctor instructs. The man swallows the three drops, starts retching and spitting, and shouts: ‘For the love of God, that’s gasoline! Are you trying to poison me?!’

‘I see that your taste has returned. That’ll be $ 500!’

The man pays up and is determined to try again. A week later, he comes back and claims: ‘Doctor, I’m suffering from memory loss, I can barely remember a thing!’

‘Nurse, three drops from bottle number 22, please,’ the doctor says.

‘Wait a minute, that’s gasoline again!’

‘I see that your memory has returned. That’ll be $500.’

The man is really angry but must pay up. A week later, he decides to have another go.

‘Doctor, I’m getting blind! I can barely see anything!’

The doctor examines him and shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. Here’s your $1000!’